


The Demon Who Loved Me

by greywolfheir



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fill, james bond movie marathon, roasted chestnuts, sofa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:36:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greywolfheir/pseuds/greywolfheir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I pretend to know about James Bond AKA I was given the prompt to incorporate 3 items into a fic: James Bond movie marathon, sofa, and roasted chestnuts. You can assume where I went from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Demon Who Loved Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cissyswonderland.tumblr.com](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cissyswonderland.tumblr.com).



Crowley gave his order and watched the waiter walk away until he hit a table with a high-strung group of stuffy businessmen hard enough that all their drinks spilled, causing a huge commotion. Crowley grinned and turned back to Aziraphale, who was giving his a disapproving look.

“Oh come on, angel,” Crowley protested. “You can’t tell me they didn’t—“

“It’s not about that, dear,” Aziraphale waved his hand. He’d been thinking of ways to kindly get them to leave anyway. “It’s just that you’ve ordered the same drink for us for the fifth time this week. Do you have a sudden attachment to it?”

 “Oh come on, Aziraphale, you know any man who drinks Dom Perignon ’52 can’t be all bad,” Crowley said with a winning smile.

Aziraphale was about to open his mouth to say that no, he most certainly didn’t know and that Crowley was actually a demon and therefore his _is_ (or at least is _supposed_ to be) all bad and really dear you should know all this, when Crowley’s smile dropped and he waved a hand, causing the food to disappear. He stood up quickly and exited, expecting Aziraphale to follow him. Aziraphale did, of course, but not without much grumbling.

“Crowley, what on Earth has gotten into you?” Aziraphale was about to add that he was really enjoying his dessert but he knew Crowley wouldn’t resist making a pass at that.

Crowley got to the Bentley, throwing open the door as he said, “We’re getting you caught up on human culture.  James Bond, angel? _Really?_ ”

Aziraphale got in the Bentley with a huff. “Oh it’s that man you got those ridiculous stickers for isn’t it?”

“James _Bond_ , Aziraphale!” Crowley repeated, ignoring the comment about his window stickers. He was still proud of those. “We’re having a marathon.”

Aziraphale huffed again but he didn’t protest.

Crowley drove them to his apartment due to the simple fact that he was the only one with a television. Not to mention its always up-to-date technology. Aziraphale hadn’t been in a while but everything looked the same. Everything…except the sofa.

“My dear, is that sofa smaller?”

“Ngk,” Aziraphale heard from the kitchen. He was curious but when Crowley came out with glasses and a fresh bottle of _wine_ —not that champagne Crowley kept getting—Aziraphale shrugged it off.

Soon, Dr. No was playing and Aziraphale watched it, though Crowley could tell he was only doing it to humor a poor demon. Crowley shrugged and sat back to watch as well. Either the angel would hate it or he would love it. Either way, they were watching every single one.

\---

Between _The Spy Who Loved Me_ and _Moonraker_ , Aziraphale decided he was hungry.

“Can’ be ‘ungry, ang’,” Crowley slurred. About halfway through _You Only Live Twice_ neither of them had the energy to refill the bottle or their glasses but they were still both absolutely smashed. Aziraphale was slowly beginning to be taken with the Bond movies. He didn’t like Bond’s crude methods—with killing and his penchant for women (“Honestly, if he’d stop focusing on the women he’d get so much more done.”)—but Crowley noticed him making more comments as they went along. So clearly his “hunger” wasn’t an excuse to get out of the next movie.

“Wellllll, I am,” Aziraphale demanded, attempting to get to his feet but constantly falling. When he fell over Crowley’s lap—eliciting a blush that the angel didn’t see—he finally struggled to sit up again and simply miracled a bowl of roasted chestnuts. Even drunk, he noticed the look Crowley was shooting him.

“H’ve somethin’ t’ say, dear?”

“Roashted ch-cun-nut things?” Crowley slurred.

“’m the one with them d’r, not you,” Aziraphale shot back. “rn’t these one-a yours anywhoo?”

Crowley shook his head vehemently. “Too healthy.”

“But they’re addictin’,” Aziraphale insisted.

Crowley shook his head and winced when his head went a little too far to the side. “Should shober up.”

Aziraphale pouted.

“N’xt one, he’s in _space_ , ang,” Crowely insisted.

Aziraphale paused but eventually there was a wince and he was sober. Crowley quickly followed suit.

“At any rate, I’ll enjoy these chestnuts more,” Aziraphale said, but he was leaning on the edge of his seat in anticipation. He caught Crowley’s grin and couldn’t help but adding. “I still think the man crude.”

Crowley didn’t respond as he begun _Moonraker_. They hadn’t even gotten to _Octopussy_ yet…

\----

“It’s awful, angel!”

“Crowley _please_ , let me decide that for myself!” Aziraphale begged. If he weren’t above it, he would be on his knees. They’d just finished _Die Another Day_ , when Crowley decided they were done because he was _not_ about to watch that Daniel Craig fellow screw up everything that was hol—good about the franchise.

“I’m not watching _Casino Royale_ ,” Crowley said, not budging.

Aziraphale pouted yet again, and it was slowly breaking Crowley’s resolve. The angels lips looked so nice when—and his blue eyes were breaking through his—was his hair _glowing_? Crowley couldn’t take it anymore.

“ _Fine_ , we’ll watch it,” Crowley grunted, slamming the DVD into the player before sitting down heavily. “As long as I don’t have to put up with your whining.

The smile he got was reward enough. Even more, though, when Aziraphale fell asleep near the end, he rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder (obviously because it was the most boring of all the Bond movies). The sofa clearly did its job. Not that Crowley had…ok, so maybe he had gotten the smaller sofa for that purpose exactly. It worked, didn’t it?

\----

Weeks after the marathon, Aziraphale still wasn’t getting all the references. He was constantly calling _Goldfinger GoldenEye_ and he would slip up on the various names or Crowley would make a reference and Aziraphale would give him blank stares. But there was one time when it was all worth it…

Aziraphale was trying to figure out why more customers were coming to his shop than usual (read: _one_ customer made it through all his defenses and _nearly_ bought a book) and he decided to add a mold spot in just the right area where anyone who walked in would notice it.

“Well, aren’t you just a problem solver,” Crowley noted.

“More of a problem eliminator, dear,” Aziraphale replied smirk.

Crowley just stared at him for a moment. The way he’d modified the quote to make it like his, that smirk…it was too much. Crowley strode across the room as fast as he could, grabbed Aziraphale’s tie, and pulled him in for a kiss. Aziraphale gasped but returned it in kind.

Pulling away, Crowley couldn’t help but add, “I always enjoyed learning a new tongue.”

“You—you…oh something about a cunning linguist,” Aziraphale spat out impatiently before grabbing Crowley’s shoulders and pulling him in for another kiss.

Crowley made a mental note to show Aziraphale more movies in the future. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok I was working off the top of my head and searches on the internet so forgive me for any mistakes in the Bond references (and even in the GO info because I don't have my book with me). But I'm actually not feeling too bad about this yay!


End file.
